Two Empty Shells
by Naiva
Summary: That was all there was left of her. The memories of his mother had become a knife that was ripping through him mercilessly. His torn heart dangled in shreds from the crucifix of his own mind! Stop it, stop it. Draco whispered to the little stuffed bear


disclaimer: i own nothing

AN/ This is one of my favorites of all the things I've ever written so I hope you find it touching. Please read and reveiw.

Two Empty Shells

For anyone who has ever been lost.

The sun cast his deceiving light of joy over the vast mountains of Scotland. Damp air was carried along by a slow wind that broke gently against the great mounds of earth like a mother caressing her child to sleep. Her faint lullaby was played on a harp of tall grass and wild flowers and the birds above sang back a blissful harmony. Bees zipped from flower to flower, but even they moved more lazily than usual under the sleepy spell of the wind. And the sun smiled down on it all. However, it was not a kind smile that he showed as his great flaming eye moved over the wreckage of the Malfoy Manor, but a cruel one.

Ruins stretched back into the hills where, only the night before, there had been a grand house. The suns rays lashed down at them mockingly, his cruel heat baking the stones as though they sat in the pits of hell itself. Nothing grew beneath them; a great explosion had blackened the ground and blown away all the foliage. Only yesterday great oaks had shaded the house and vines had played about the grey stone walls of the manor that was so ostentatious itself that nearly dwarfed the majestic mountains around it. But, that house was no more. All there was remaining were a few piled up stones left to be ridiculed by the sun.

A lone black shape was drifting from brick to brick like a ghostly graveyard dog. Shock no longer possessed Draco Malfoy. He had been wandering the ruins of his home for hours and was feeling too numb to be shocked. Where had it gone? Where had it all gone?

Finally he sat down onto the scorched earth and began to pick at it. "This is where my room was." He thought aloud and then out of habit said, "Third corridor, first floor, second door to the right."

But, it looked nothing like the room he remembered. His room was big with a grand four poster bed against the west wall that was draped with green satin hangings…and over there should be his bookshelf, but he had never liked reading anyway…and there was the where the toy chest used to be.

Draco tried to laugh, but it came out as an indistinct hiccup. He had told his mother a thousand times that he did not want to keep that stupid chest of toys, but she refused to get rid of it. She had always thought he was a child. Two days ago he would have thought about his mother and been angry, but now he simply could not. "Just because she's dead," he told himself, "Doesn't mean you can't be angry at her!"

Nothing.

Wait…what was that on the ground? Draco squinted at the place where he had kept his toys and saw something sitting there. It was light brown in color and contrasted subtly with the grey stone that it was leaning against.

He stood; walking over to it cautiously and his stomach disappeared as he drew nearer and recognized the thing.

"Merlin?" he asked the stuffed bear as though it would answer him.

Bending down to pick it up, Draco felt the cooling touch of his childhood embrace him like a blanket, momentarily shielding him from the sun. He looked into Merlin's fluffy face and beady black eyes. In spite of all that the little thing had been through, its expression stayed the same: smiling and innocent.

"_Here you go, Draco. This one is a gift from me."_

_In his memory his mother reached out to him and handed him the little stuffed bear. Her face was loving and proud as she looked at him._

"_Thank you mother!" said his memory, "I will love it always." _

That had been a lie, Draco knew. He had never liked the bear, he thought it was a gift for babies, but felt an obligation to his mother to be grateful.

"Thank you mother, I will love it always."

Draco held Merlin close to him and fell to the ground as though a great weight was pulling him down, down, down. That was all there was left of her. The memories of his mother had become a knife that was ripping through him mercilessly. His torn heart dangled in shreds from the crucifix of his own mind!

"Stop it, stop it." Draco whispered to the little stuffed bear, "I have lost myself."

Still nothing.

He looked down at it again. The evil sun glinted off of the bear's little glass eyes so that it almost looked alive. Draco felt the swift hand of jealousy on his heart. Why should this little bear live and smile when his mother could not? When _he_ could not? How could such a pathetic little thing still be smiling the same little smug smile? Didn't it know that the woman who had given it was dead? Didn't it know that she was never coming back?

"I wish I knew your secret, Merlin." He told the bear.

It stared up at him blankly, its eyes dead and doll-like again.

Still nothing.

CRACK!

Draco stood up and whirled around blindly his wand in one hand and the other still holding Merlin. A wizard had just appeared, he knew it!

"Put the wand away, Draco." Snape walked slowly and deliberately up to Draco, who had not put his wand down at the ex-potions master's demand.

"Oh, it's you," he said putting on his drawl, "And what are you doing here? Come to protect me or to kill me this time? But, I suppose that depends on who you're taking orders from today."

There was an enormous amount of bitterness in Draco's words, but Snape was undaunted. He was coldly polite when he addressed his old student, "You should not be here, Draco, it's dangerous."

"So, what's it to you?"

"Merely that I'm only looking out for your best interest." Snape's indifferent tone was dropping slightly, "The Death Eaters were here last night, as you can plainly see, looking for you and your father."

"Yeah?" said Draco, "That's a big surprise! Why don't you fuck off and leave me alone?"

Draco's cockiness was leaving him. He turned around so that he would not have to face Snape and lowered his wand. That was when he realized that he was still holding Merlin and dropped it, embarrassed.

Snape sneered behind Draco's back, "Reminiscing, Draco?"

"What does it matter? What else do I have?"

"You have the future, Draco, don't let it go." Snape replied coldly.

Draco shrugged moodily. Why wasn't he angry at Snape? After all, it was practically Snape's fault that his mother was dead.

"Why didn't you stop her?"

"What?" asked Snape.

"My mother, you knew her, why didn't you stop her from trying to rescue father? Why didn't you tell her that he would be safe from the Death Eaters?"

"First of all, I never could have known that she would do such a foolish thing as to break into Azkaban and second of all it would have been a lie. Your pathetic show on that tower, Draco, reached the Dark Lord's ears."

Draco shivered. What from? He was not frightened, was he? Was he angry?

Still nothing.

"I was doing just fine until you showed up!" he turned around to face his old head of house.

Snape's skin was waxy in the sun and his greasy hair shimmered like his cold, black eyes. "You were doing fine, were you, Draco?"

Draco swallowed and did not answer. Dumbledore's words to him were still in his head, as clear as the sick sunlight that flooded the vulgar wreckage with its false feeling of happiness.

"You could not have killed him," hissed Snape and something flickered across his face that Draco had never seen before, "You and I knew it from the beginning; the Dark Lord knew it!"

"That's not true!" said Draco, some of his cockiness returning with his drawl, "I could have killed him!"

"How?"

"I'll show you," said Draco, raising his wand with murderous thoughts blazing in his head.

There was the anger! It had been lying dormant all that time as he knew it had, but now it was alive!

"You couldn't kill me," said Snape unconcerned over Draco's threat, "Just as you couldn't kill Dumbledore! What do you know of death?"

"No, I didn't kill Dumbledore…you did! Murderer!"

Draco had struck a nerve. Snape's face was contorted with rage…was it rage? "I did what I had to!" he screamed, looking positively insane.

As the sun beat down onto Draco's brow he realized what Snape was feeling: self hatred. "…You didn't want to kill the old bastard did you?"

Snape's jaw twitched and Draco was utterly shocked to see that his old head of house was trying to hold back tears. At least…Draco thought he saw Snape's eyes become watery, but that instant vanished quickly and Snape's face showed nothing but contempt once again. "You can't possibly imagine…" he began, but he would not finish.

But, Draco did not care about Snape's pain. He was too busy drowning in his own numb pain. He wanted to provoke himself…to feel _something._ "Why did you have to show up and ruin it all? I could have killed him myself!"

"And you still think that you have it in you to kill? Well then, Draco kill me." Snape held his arms wide, mocking Draco, "I welcome you!"

"I'll do it!" screamed Draco, raising his wand higher.

"Go on, death is a welcome friend to me! Please, Draco, kill me!" Snape's tone dripped with sarcasm.

"I will!"

"You couldn't." said Snape calmly.

"You don't understand!" yelled Draco, the whirlwind of emotions finally smacking into him with full force, "You don't know what it's like to feel this way! You don't know!"

Snape's lips curled into a malicious smile. "Oh don't I?"

As quickly as Draco's feelings of anger and indigence had come, they vanished.

Nothing again.

"You are the one who does not know! Look at you! You've never had to work for anything in your entire life! You're a spoiled brat. Everything you ever wanted or needed was given to you on a silver platter. You have been allowed to grow up on the absurd assumption that everything is always going to bend to your selfish needs. What do you know of desperate? What do you know of pain and loss? Nothing! You are a bully and a child and nothing more!"

Draco felt slightly stung, but not by Snape's words; more by the fact that he knew they were true. But, he would never admit that to Snape! He still had his pride and that was something!

"Go away," he said lamely.

"Not until we have decided what is to happen to you."

"I'm going to die!" said Draco, sitting down, "That's all there is."

"Everyone does die eventually, Draco, but unfortunately your time is yet to come," said Snape impatiently through gritted teeth, "There is hardly escape from the Dark Lord's wrath, but you'll have to try."

"No I don't." Draco said from the ground, staring across at the little stuffed bear that was lying a few feet away from him.

"Then you are weak." Snape spat.

Draco felt the small flame of anger kindling inside of him again. "Fuck off!"

"Do not speak to me that way!"

"I'll speak to you however the hell I want!" said Draco, getting to his feet, his wand in his hand again.

"I come here to give you my help…"

"You don't give a damn about me!" shouted Draco, "Why would you give me any help?"

"You're right," sneered the old Slytherin, "Why should I help you? You're a pathetic little child who won't even help himself, you're so wretched. You don't deserve my help."

"Good! Because I don't want it!"

"But, you need it, Draco." Snape said in a calmer voice.

"And what help could you possibly give me? You've ruined my life, you took my glory and my family! There is no help that you could give me to save all that you have taken away!" yelled Draco.

He knew that most of what he was saying was giving Snape more credit than he had earned, but somebody had to be blamed. Didn't they?

"Why so angry with me, Draco?" asked Snape with raised eyebrows, "You know I could not have done all that."

"I'm not angry!" said Draco.

"Then what do you feel?"

Nothing.

"I hate you!" he said.

"Do you?" asked Snape, his eyebrows still raised.

"I don't know!" yelled Draco, rubbing his forehead, "I just…I've been pulled this way and that…I don't know what to think, I don't know what to feel…just being pushed and pulled until I HATE EVERYBODY!"

His mind was crying vainly to his heart to feel remorse, to feel sad, angry, self-pity, anything!

Nothing.

"Listen, Draco," Snape moved forward and placed a waxy hand onto his shoulder, "You and your father are still alive. To give up now would be foolish! Come, I'll take you somewhere safe."

Draco felt weak, but Snape's hand was oddly reassuring. His father was still alive. "Alright," he said at last.

The two of them began to walk away from the ruined and scorched remains of the Malfoy Manor. The sun was still beating down on them pitilessly, but soon they would be away from it and back into a different kind of cruelty: the cruelty of life. Draco looked behind him to his old home and was possessed to stop.

"Wait," he said and ran back.

Merlin was still lying on the ground, looking up at the sky with its beady black eyes and innocent smile. Draco picked it up, not caring what Snape thought, to look into that familiar face. The face of his childhood.

"_Thank you, mother, I will love it always!"_

There was always hope…and that was something.

AN/ I would really like to read some reviews on this one.


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